


empty.

by nobodysdarlin



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Headcanon, M/M, Other, Short, is this porn, not not porn, reaching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 20:43:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14922509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobodysdarlin/pseuds/nobodysdarlin
Summary: "see I've been to hell and back so many times I must admit, you kinda bore me."i got nothin.





	empty.

"I did it all for you."

The way blood smells in large, cold quantities is not something that had ever been taught in the Army. The way your gut pulls side to side in part nausea, part hunger, is as unnerving as it is appealing.

And Juice was fucking covered in it.

"What did ye get into."

"I did it all for you." he said again, quietly, not proclaiming any louder than someone saying "present" in a half-full classroom.

Jimmy O had resurfaced in Charming about a year prior to this night. The sick feeling of something looming over them had been felt through the club and no one could figure out what exactly it was until one night, Chibs had come back from a beer run white as a sheet.

"Jimmy...I just saw Jimmy." he managed to cough out between rapidly chain smoking cigarettes. Happy was quick to offer a blunt but Chibs shook it away, wanting to steel his nerves, not mellow out and forget.

"It's not possible. It's not fucking possible." Tig could not contain it any longer. He was angry. 

"I swear to it, Tiggy. He was alive as any one of us. Saw him talking business with someone at the truck yard. It was him...what I left of him, at least."

They all sat in their silence, slowly chewing over the news that all that had happened over the last few years, all the hurt and pain and death to the club, could have been influenced by this living ghost. Or had he been biding his time, waiting for the moment to derail them all. Or was he only set on one?

 

"Mother of Christ," Chibs let out finally, blowing a ring of smoke above their heads. "What are we going to do."

The months that followed left Chibs a twisted, wound and chaotic version of himself. Juice would wake up in the middle of the night with him pacing in the backyard, convinced that Jimmy was there  
waiting for him. He'd get violently sick with fear, something that was usually Juice's specialty. It ate away at Chibs physically, the weight falling off of him rapidly. Without another sighting of Jimmy, the rest of the club began to question if the old man might have been wrong about seeing him. He had, after all, sliced him long and wide years ago. Many questions whether or not that was something someone could even survive.

"Didn't kill me." Chibs had whispered, interrupting several members who were discussing it in the dorms one night.

 

And then Juice disappeared. And the whole world stopped moving. A week came and went. And then two. And no one could find him. And Chibs couldn't even fathom where or what or who could have happened to him.

Then finally, one night- this night- he came home, covered in so much blood that in the moonlight it looked like the whole world, including him, had been painted in navy blue ink.

It was cold and nearly dried, so that when Chibs grabbed him his entire shirt stuck to the tacky, gummy blood. He didn't let go. He couldn't. He was too shocked to cry, too relieved to scream. For the first time in almost a year, he no longer felt empty.


End file.
